The Boat
by Ninmub
Summary: DouWata oneshot. While on a boating trip, Watanuki gets into difficulties.


**title:** The Boat

**pairings:** DouWata

**total words:** 4 100

**disclaimer:** _xxxHoLiC_ and all related characters, terms, etc. are not mine. no money is being made off this fic.

**warnings:** shounen-ai verging on the almost lime-ish side of things.

**notes:** random Doumeki-temptation oneshot written in, like, March. more one-sided unrequited lurve than actual Donuts, though. and quite a bit of canon-level Watanuki/Himawari.

* * *

No amount of coaxing, cajoling, threatening, bullying, singing, dancing, begging, pouting, pleading, mysterious and veiled comments on the nature of hitsuzen or promises of Himawari in a bikini had yet managed to convince Watanuki to set foot anywhere near the boats.

"But it's so much fun," Yuuko had crooned. She had been getting changed at the time; since there was a notable lack of changing rooms anywhere near this godforsaken puddle of malevolent, polluted, spirit-infested water, she had had to make do with an umbrella, some strategically-positioned foliage, and a beach towel tied between two trees by Mokona in order to preserve her modesty. _Not as though you have any modesty left_, Watanuki had muttered, which had earned him a bruise on his head and stars in his vision. "I simply _adore_ sailing! It's the perfect setting for a summer date!"

"Your definition of "perfect" is very different to mine," Watanuki had grumbled from where he was unpacking lunch from the cooler boxes he and Doumeki had lugged along. "See, in a world with _normal_ people in it, namely the world I come from, "perfect" does not mean getting seasick, being thrashed around by a ridiculously flimsy piece of wood in a high gale, falling out into the water and getting chewed on by some dumb ugly thing with too many tentacles and teeth, only to be rescued by a certain PERVERTED IDIOT who will most likely use the opportunity as an excuse to have his wicked way with me by GIVING ME MOUTH TO MOUTH or something equally disgusting and, and, and...ulterior-motive...filled. Or...something."

Doumeki had been in the middle of unbuttoning his trousers in order to strip down to his trunks. Catching the end of Watanuki's tirade, he had looked up with mild interest in his face.

"AND THAT WASN'T AN INVITATION, YOU CREEP."

Now, Watanuki was perched on a grassy hummock by the lakeside, staring moodily down at sand and beaded grey water. Mokona, fully equipped with Mokona-sized bucket, spade and sunhat, was industriously attempting to build a sandcastle of some variety. So far, Watanuki was very inclined to place it in the "large lumpy pile of wet sand well-suited to being the ideal dwelling place for any masochistic nematode" category, but that was only because he was in a bad mood.

Himawari's voice rang out across the water. "Watanuki-kun! Cheer up! See how much fun we're having!"

"Himawari-chan!" Watanuki yelped, leaping to his feet and cupping his hands around his mouth. "Are you sunburnt? Has Doumeki made any indecent attempts on your virtue? Do you have sunstroke? Are you drowning?"

"I'm just fine!" she called back, waving. She was wearing an extremely tasteful and very adorable yellow bikini, Watanuki noted. Doumeki was rowing away steadily, not looking up at all, while Yuuko lounged about in the prow of the small row-boat, sipping languidly at something that was probably illegally alcoholic. "Are you sure you don't want join us? It's really fun!"

"I'll keep watch over the food!" Watanuki shouted eagerly. "I'll guard it with my life! No evil ants will find their way to _my _onigiri! No one will taste my masterful creations except you, Himawari-chan! Count on it!"

"What Watanuki _means_ is that he's afraid of the water," Yuuko called. Even at this distance, Watanuki could see her smirking. "Isn't that right?"

"It doesn't matter that you can't swim, Watanuki-kun!" Himawari sang. "I'm sure Doumeki could rescue you if you started drowning! He's so _good_ at rescuing you by now."

"I never _ask_ him to rescue me," Watanuki grumbled to no one, before adding, loudly, "It's alright, Himawari-chan, I'll just stay here. I don't trust any boat that Doumeki's in charge of, anyway!"

The best part about it was that he was too far away to hear any of Doumeki's stupid remarks, he decided smugly, and settled himself back down on the grass, stretching his toes out to dabble them in the water, sinking them into the sand. Mokona had abandoned its sand-castle and was now bobbing about in the water like a very odd-lucking duck, its feet waving around in the air. Suddenly alarmed that it might be drowning, Watanuki reached over and righted it.

It came up spluttering and indignant. "Watanuki ruined Mokona's handstand!" it pouted.

"Sorry, sorry," Watanuki said, hastily. "I thought you might be drowning, that's all."

"Mokona was working out a routine for _synchronised swimming_," Mokona said, crossly. "So that when the other Mokona comes home, we can do a dance together!"

"I'm sure that'll be loads of fun," Watanuki offered, in as placating a tone as he could manage.

"Yup!" Mokona agreed, and promptly stuck its head back under the water, little paws churning madly.

It was at this point, as Watanuki sat with his neck burning and his toes sinking deeper into the sand, that he became aware of the faint scratching sound coming from a little way along the water's edge. On peering closer at the bank of reeds nearby, he noticed that the foliage was trembling, as though in a high breeze.

_It's going to be a kappa_, he thought, mournfully. _And the idiot is out in the boat showing off how manly he is to Himawari-chan, and I didn't even bring any cucumbers. Fine._ Aloud, he said, "If you hear any blood-curdling screams, be sure to let Yuuko-san know that I died bravely, OK?"

"Bllllurb," said Mokona, who was still happily submerged.

"Fine, fine," Watanuki muttered, and got to his feet. There was always the chance that it was a restless ghost that needed to be laid, or else some kind of friendly spirit in trouble, and he felt, somehow, obliged to investigate.

Parting the reeds gingerly, he found nothing save for a marshy patch of wetland. However, a little way beyond this was a stretch of bank where willows grew, their long yellow leaves trailing on the grey water, and here the noise of scratching was louder: rhythmical and insistent, as though something were trying to claw its way out of wooden confinements. Watanuki frowned, slapping insects away from his face, and took a step forward into the reed-bed. Instantly, he sank up to his ankles in thick syrupy mud. Lovely.

He proceeded with caution, seeing as lakes and other bodies of water attracted ghosts like nothing else on earth (except for himself, he thought irritably), and he had no wish to meet some creepy drowned girl with her hair straggling all over her face and water-eaten eyes. He reached out to move aside the trailing willow-curtain, stepping out of the mud and into clear water, feeling flat smooth stones shift and click beneath his feet.

The light fell in tawny folds through the green and yellow leaves to dapple the surface of the water. There beneath the willows was a small white rowing-boat, its sides quite badly warped and its paint bleached and peeling. It was tied to the trunk of a willow with a thick rope, from which hung a series of ofuda. The strange knocking sound had stopped entirely.

If it was tied up and warded with ofuda, then it was tied up and warded with ofuda for an extremely good reason. Watanuki's first instinct was to get the hell out of there and tell everyone all about it much later, preferably while safe in the shop with nothing more frightening than an inebriated space-time witch and an infatuated pipe-fox on hand. Even so, he couldn't help feeling strangely sorry for the little boat. He reached out gently to touch its prow, and the dry, splintery wood seemed almost to nuzzle itself up into the palm of his hand. He brushed aside a chain of willow-leaves to see the name painted in black. The kanji had faded somewhat, though their beauty hadn't: they were old and ornate, and oddly alluring.

"_Ryuu-ou_," he said, reading the name aloud.

That was not a wise course of action.

Ink dripped from the ofuda and splashed into the dark water, and the paper of which they were made thinned, crumbled away. The thick rope gave off a flash, flaring as bright as magnesium before disintegrating, so that Watanuki cried out and staggered, flinging an arm across his eyes. He grabbed at the closest thing to hand as he floundered, and before he could understand what had happened, he was pitched head-first into the boat.

The last thing he was aware of before passing out was the familiar noxious stench that always accompanied evil spirits. He really should just have gone sailing with the others.

* * *

Doumeki first became aware of what was happening when his loaned eye began to act up. He couldn't see anything clear, save for a vague outline of bright hunched willows glowing in sunlight light, and dappled tiger's-eye water. "Hmpf," he said, and kept rowing. The haze of colour had reminded him briefly of Watanuki's new brown eye, the eye that had once, in fact, been Doumeki's. In point of fact, he had never really noticed how appealing the colour was until it had showed up in Watanuki's face.

"I love lakes," Himawari said, feeding crumbs of biscuit to Tanpopo. "We used to go sailing all the time when I was little. But...well." She stopped, and looked sad, stroking Tanpopo's crest. "It's nice to go again. I love the water."

"We should be on the lookout for kappa," Yuuko remarked idly, waggling a long white foot around and sipping her sake. "Though there aren't too many of them around these days."

"Everyone knows how to get rid of them, anyway," Himawari said.

"Poor silly creatures. They're really very polite."

That was when they saw the bright flash of light from the shore, and heard the shout.

In less time than it took to breathe, Doumeki was on his feet, adrenaline surging through him. He knew that shout far too well; he had heard it too many times. The boat rocked underneath him; Himawari, eyes wide and fearful, clung to the edge, while Yuuko merely sat up slowly, the sardonic laziness slipping from her face like satin.

"You can sit down, Doumeki," she said.

He did, because he trusted her with Watanuki's life by now.

"What's wrong?" Himawari asked, salt-white, her brown eyes huge. "Yuuko-san, what's happening?"

Yuuko raised an arm to point to the bank. A small white boat had emerged from the shadows of a grove of willow trees and was drifting into the centre of the lake at quite a miraculous speed. "Vengeful spirits," she said, "are not to be trifled with." She met Doumeki's eyes. "Are you a good swimmer?"

Doumeki was already shucking off his shirt. A moment later, he was in the water.

It was dizzyingly cold after the warmth of the sun, and the change made his head pound. He opened his eyes, but could see nothing except rocks, which wasn't very helpful. His heart was thudding maddeningly, and each beat seemed to drain him somehow, making his arms heavier and heavier. Kicking upwards furiously, he broke the surface, saw nothing but a bright white-and-gold haze of water and sky, and a pale smudge that was the boat. He began to swim faster than he ever had before in his life, ploughing through the water, drawing breath in sharp, economic gasps.

The problem here was that Watanuki was too far away. He always was, even when he was right at Doumeki's side and they were walking to school together, but right now it was simply a question of time. He needed to make himself swim faster, somehow, needed to reach that boat before it did whatever the hell it was planning on doing: he needed to be more, be stronger. He knew how. He was experienced by now in what it meant to keep sprinting flat out even though his legs were folding underneath him and his chest was red and aching. He knew how to dig for hours with rocks pressing into his knees and rain sliding down his aching back and soil clinging to his bleeding fingertips; he knew how to run with a dead weight in his straining arms and blood hot against his throat.

In him there was always a fear that, on some dreaded day not too far off, there would be a catastrophe - a spirit he couldn't exorcise, an accident he couldn't prevent, a thing that could never, ever be undone. It was this fear that made him keep swimming, and that made him strong enough to keep swimming, until he had reached the boat and pulled himself over the side.

He landed sopping wet on top of Watanuki. The fact that Watanuki didn't wake up instantly and start squawking was probably not good. On looking again he decided that the fact that Watanuki's eyes were wide open and staring at nothing was also not good. He was breathing, though.

"Wake up," Doumeki said.

There was no change, though the boat rocked marginally, and a very bad feeling began to creep across Doumeki's heart. The air was suddenly too still: he could no longer hear the noise of the waves, and when he looked around all he could see was a hot golden haze, the colour of willow-leaves under sunlight. He looked down at Watanuki, at the mismatched eyes behind the glasses, at the pale skin. "Wake up," he said again, sharply, and hit Watanuki hard across the face. "Wake up, you moron!"

Again the boat rocked, harder this time.

Doumeki had the brief notion that something had shifted. For a moment, it almost felt as though the boat had dipped down, and he could have sworn that he felt water stream across his face and close over his head. A moment later, however, everything was exactly as it had been before. He looked around desperately, but could not see the lake or the shore or Yuuko and Himawari's boat or anything even remotely helpful. The small white boat was entirely surrounded by a silent welter of gold. It was like sailing on light. He ground his teeth in frustration, feeling his chest clench up. He didn't know what to do.

He was suddenly very aware that he was practically straddling Watanuki, and that the boy's body was thin and solid underneath him – and soaking wet by now, seeing as Doumeki had been dripping everywhere. He made to sit up, trying awkwardly to clamber away from Watanuki in the small boat; but a hand reached up and caught his elbow, held him fast where he was.

He looked down, and Watanuki was smiling gently up at him.

"Hey," he said. His voice was soft. "Where're you going in such a hurry?"

Doumeki stared down at him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Watanuki said, shrugging. His hand moved up, tracing the line of Doumeki's shoulder, then his throat, then his jaw. "I've missed you."

Doumeki said nothing. He had gone very still, not daring to breathe. This couldn't be real. His breath caught in his throat as Watanuki's fingers came to rest against his lips.

"You mustn't go away again," Watanuki said. "OK? I don't ever want you to go away."

Doumeki tried to speak, couldn't, cleared his throat, tried again. "OK," he whispered, hoarse.

"I want you to stay here, so that you can protect me."

"I will."

"Good," Watanuki said. He pushed himself up from the bottom of the boat with his free arm, locked the other around Doumeki's neck. "Now stay very still."

Their lips brushed. Doumeki pulled back momentarily, breath shaking, heart pounding, but Watanuki pulled him down, cool fingers flush against his face, his lips soft and warm. Doumeki held out for a moment longer, and then gave in for what felt like the first time in his life. He shifted himself clumsily, got his arm around Watanuki's waist, and then kissed him back quite thoroughly. Watanuki gave a small whimper that was halfway between a soft sigh of happiness and a laugh of annoyance, and the sound caught and tore at Doumeki's heart, and pushed him well and truly over the edge.

Watanuki arched up, one hand splayed soft on Doumeki's bare chest, the other cradling his head, the fingers stroking through his wet hair. "You came to rescue me," he murmured between kisses. "Thank you."

"I can't not," Doumeki said, and he had to close his eyes, because he was in too much pain, and he had wanted this for far too long now. "I can't not care. I have to. If something happens to you...I just...I can't. That's all."

"Shizuka," Watanuki said, still in the same soft, gentle tone. "I want to thank you. I want to do something for you...to say thank you...I want to..." Slowly and deliberately, he rocked upwards against Doumeki, pressing their groins together.

Doumeki shuddered, gritting his teeth together. He drew in a long, shaking breath, and kept his eyes closed. If he looked down into those eyes he would lose everything. "This isn't real, is it?" he said, swallowing hard.

"Does it matter?" asked the thing underneath him. "It's what you want. It's as real as you want it to be. You can have this, and it won't matter what happens afterwards."

"Where's Watanuki?"

"You've always wanted it, and now you can have it. You can have him. He's right here, right in front of you."

"Where is he?" Doumeki repeated.

"It doesn't matter," the thing repeated. It rocked upwards again, and began to kiss Doumeki's throat, trailing hot gentle kisses along his collarbone. "I'm here. That's what matters. That's what you want."

"I want him to be safe," Doumeki gritted out, and wrenched himself away, scrambling up until he had reached the opposite side of the boat, where he crouched, breathing hard. He opened his eyes to see that the thing shaped like Watanuki had frozen. This ghost or spirit, whatever it was, had apparently abandoned that particular illusion. Its voice spoke again, but it no longer sounded like Watanuki.

"You will be eaten," it said.

With no transition whatsoever, Doumeki was in the water, and his lungs were on fire. He could see nothing in the dimness, although there was a light overhead. Floundering madly, he kicked towards the surface, but noticed just in time a body hanging beside him in the water: Watanuki, deathly pale, utterly motionless. Doumeki's arm shot out, grabbed Watanuki by the collar of his T-shirt, and started to haul him up through the water. He couldn't think about how he had almost been tricked. This was his fault for allowing himself the luxury of believing. If Watanuki died now it was Doumeki's fault.

The swim upwards was impossibly difficult, and he couldn't understand why. The water was so heavy on him, colder than steel, and the light, instead of growing brighter and clearer, seemed to be dying away with each stroke. His body bucked involuntarily as he tried desperately to suck down air, but he kept his jaw clamped tight shut and refused to allow himself to panic. His feet pinwheeled about madly; he was exhausted by now, and lurid black splotches were flaring in his vision. He didn't even know if Watanuki next to him was dead or alive, and for a base, sickening moment he considered just letting Watanuki go, letting him sink, and struggling back to the surface on his own.

Doumeki barely entertained the thought for a heartbeat, however: he knew his place by now. It was here, with Watanuki, fighting and fighting no matter how hopeless the battle to keep him from sinking. Doumeki's life wasn't important, and nor were his opinions or wishes or thoughts. Watanuki was the important one: Yuuko had said as much, or had _almost_ said as much, on several occasions now. Watanuki was the one who had to survive, and that was all that mattered.

In what he was fairly certain would be his last moments, Doumeki looked down. There was almost no light now: the water was a dim green-grey, but moving somewhere in it was a gleam of sickly white. A pallid sinuous form lay along the bottom of the lake, dragonish almost in shape, and a single shining strand of silver was wrapped around Watanuki's ankle, pulling him further and further down.

_Right_, thought Doumeki, grimly. He was beyond pain now, and beyond exhaustion. He gripped Watanuki's knee, pulled himself downwards into the depths, and grabbed the thread. It slipped over his skin with absolutely no friction at all, slicing his palms like ice: for a moment he thought that he had lost his fingers entirely. But the thread had broken, he saw on looking again, and Watanuki was beginning to drift upwards to the light, and to air, and to Yuuko, who presumably knew how to fix worse things than having been underwater for a couple of minutes. She could take care of things for now.

She would have to, because Doumeki certainly couldn't. He had the nasty notion that he was already dead.

* * *

Of course, he wasn't.

Yuuko knew _exactly_ how to deal with peckish dragons, and she was also _very_ good at saving people from drowning.

* * *

Later, the three of them sat together on the porch outside the shop. Watanuki was still in a very bad mood. Himawari had spent most of the afternoon in tears, but she had pretended to cheer up after a while, and was now making a big fuss of looking after the boys as they sat shivering in their blankets.

"I'm sorry," she said, quietly, after a while. "I couldn't help much."

"You rowed the boat so that Yuuko-san could come save us," Watanuki reminded her.

"You did," Doumeki agreed, which was uncharacteristically thoughtful of him, and which was also almost the first thing he had said since waking up on the bank of the lake. "Rowing boats is hard work."

"I did what I had to," she said. "It wasn't very much. Yuuko-san has magic, and Doumeki-kun is strong, and Watanuki-kun –"

"Is an idiot who can't even take care of himself," Watanuki supplied, smiling softly at her. "I don't care what you can or can't do. Himawari-chan is Himawari-chan."

Her eyes were very huge and dark in her white face. She looked as exhausted as Doumeki felt. "Thank you," she said, and stood up. Tanpopo was nuzzling anxiously at her cheek. "Tell you what – I'm going to go help Maru and Moro get the hot chocolate! I'll be back in just a sec, OK?"

Neither Doumeki nor Watanuki missed the way her voice broke at the end, and they both knew that she was probably going off to cry some more. Doumeki did nothing, because he didn't interfere with other people. Watanuki gazed after her with pain on his face for a few moments, and then clenched his fist, and looked down at his knees.

"She'll be OK," he said, more to himself than to Doumeki. "She will."

Doumeki kept quiet.

"It's a wonder they don't have you on the debating team," Watanuki added, irritably. "Seeing as you're such an excellent speaker and always express your opinions so well."

Doumeki just leaned his head in his hands for a moment.

"Can I ask you something?" Watanuki said. "I mean, when I was – when I was in the water, when it had me, I saw – I saw – everyone, all my friends, and my..." his voice went very small "...my parents were there. They. They were alive. And – and you, and Himawari-chan, and we were all – we were all happy."

Doumeki still didn't say anything.

"And I wondered if it was because of what it was doing, the – the dumb evil dragon spirit thing with its dumb evil devil boat or whatever, like if that was a way it kept it – its – its prey, you know, quiet. Or if it was just a hallucination. Which it probably was, so that doesn't matter." He clapped his hands in finality, and got all snippy again, just to disperse the awkwardness. "Though I don't know why I'm asking _you_, seeing as you were apparently born with the tragic inability to talk or something."

"I saw you," Doumeki said.

After a long pause, Watanuki said, "Thank you, by the way."

"Anytime," Doumeki managed.

They sat there together as the long afternoon light faded from gold to blue, until Himawari came back and joined them. And then all three of them sat there together, shoulders bumping, and talked about nothing in particular.

* * *

thanks for reading!


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